


In the Shadow of Death

by KageYuuki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Read the warnings, Temporary Character Death, World of Ruin (Final Fantasy), World of Ruin Big Bang (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageYuuki/pseuds/KageYuuki
Summary: As the nights grow longer, magic returns to the former Kingsglaive. A chance to redeem themselves, according to a vision of Bahamut as they sleep. “Protect the people so they may see the dawn’s return.” Plunged into the dark and chaos of the World of Ruin, it isn’t long before the glaives discover their magic’s return wasn’t the only change wrought by the Astrals.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6
Collections: World of Ruin Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the World of Ruin Big Bang with some incredible art by Mementomoryo!
> 
> You can find more of her gorgeous work on @CCronshaw on Twitter, mementomoryo.tumblr.com for Tumblr, and https://www.instagram.com/mementomoryo/ on Instagram!

With a heavy sigh, Celeste sat on one of the many boulders scattered across Leide. The tags dangling from her bloodied fingers jingled softly at the movement. Dave had asked her to search for them; she hadn’t expected the slain hunter to have also been a member of the Crownsguard. 

Judging by the heavy footprints, MTs had landed in the area. It wasn’t the hunt mark that nearly tore him in half, it had been a Niff’s ax. 

Celeste’s lips twitched in a suppressed sneer. Those days were gone, she kept telling herself. 

Nothing but bad memories and nightmares now. 

Her free hand reached into her pocket, withdrawing a red feather. A phoenix down, more magic than feather. A faint glow emanated from the plume, warmth seeping into her fingers as she twirled it. Celeste has found it on the remains of the slain hunter, though the poor bastard had been too far gone for it to be of any use. 

They were standard issue among the Crownsguard: one per soldier on the field. The Kingsglaive were lucky to see one for an entire unit. Even when they did get ahold of one, it was saved for the commanders. Too precious to waste something like that on a standard glaive, after all. Celeste has heard rumors that Lucian nobility used phoenix downs extensively while training the Crownsguard’s elite. Something about how the King’s Shield must be able to face death unflinchingly. 

Spent frivolously on training, yet too precious to give to the frontlines. If that didn’t sum up how Insomnia looked at the Glaives, Celeste wouldn’t know what would. “Just rats left to nibble at your scraps,” she muttered to the grave beside her, “but the glaives died with your king.” She’d said as such herself when the Marshall found her licking her wounds in Meldacio and tried to bring her back into the fight. 

_“I have no fight left in me for a king that broke his vow to us,” she had said vehemently, “don’t expect me to follow some prince that hasn’t proven to be any better. Gonna need a miracle if you want my blade.”_


	2. Chapter 2

A miracle - they could use one of those about now. 

It was an easy enough hunt: go clear out a small pack of goblins that were causing trouble. The little daemons had been pilfering supplies and harassing hunters. And it had been going well enough, despite the pack splitting forcing Celeste and her partner Astor to split up as well. The pair of former glaives had more than enough experience to handle the goblins on their own, weaving through attacks and cutting them down in response. 

Until the daemons stopped fighting back. 

And started cheering. 

The sound made Celeste’s hair stand on end. Whipping around, she scanned the darkness for any sign of what had the little goblins so ecstatic. The sound of metal grinding against metal cut through the air like an icy knife. Celeste gritted her teeth at the sight of the daemon emerging from the shadows. Ragged robes hung from a twisted mockery of the human body, a large, weathered hat hiding its face from view. Though the sword it carried was pristine. A long, slender, blood-red blade that glinted in the moonlight.

A yojimbo. Hunters had orders to retreat if one ever appeared. The powerful daemon could take down a dozen without so much as a scratch. 

“Shit.” The word had barely left Celeste’s mouth when the daemon lunged for her. She swung her spear to parry, jumping back to try and keep out of the blade’s reach. Her mind flashed back to the one time she’d sparred against the Marshal. It had been one of the shortest matches she’d had after becoming a full-fledged Glaive. _It let me block . . ._

The yojimbo sheathed its sword, its stance shifting. Celeste didn’t even see the Yojimbo’s next move. But she felt the cold metal pierce her flesh and scrape against bone. It erupted into white-hot pain that blurred her vision. 

A scream tore itself from her throat. Celeste felt her lance slip from her fingers. Her mind went blank, any thought replaced by the keening pain wracking her body. The space of a heartbeat felt like an eternity. Someone in the distance screamed her name. 

Celeste felt like her body moved on its own accord, her hands desperately grasping at the blade that impaled her. Blood ran down the blade from her fingers and flowed from her chest. Stormy grey eyes glared at the daemon through welling tears. A spray of crimson from her mouth. Even as darkness encroached on her vision, one thought repeated itself in her mind. 

_Burn._

A surge of magic ripped through her body. Flames poured from her hands, igniting blood and weapon alike. Blackened fingers released the sword and reached out for the Yojimbo. The magic flared, primal and uncontained as the torrent washed over the daemon. Its flailing body being engulfed in flames was the last thing Celeste saw before her vision went dark.

Astor appeared in a brilliant explosion of light, and snow, and crystal shards. With a roar, he buried his ax in the burning daemon’s chest, sending it staggering back with a crunch of bone. Wrenching it loose, he struck again and again. Over and over. Until there was nothing left but black blood and roiling miasma. 

He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, before a wet, choking gasp had him spinning around. Had him dropping his weapon despite the other daemons still lingering nearby. Astor was already on his knees at Celeste’s side, pressing a hand to the ragged wound in her chest. The daemon’s sword had dissipated along with its wielder. Letting blood pour freely. 

Too much blood.

“No, no, no, dammit don’t do this to me!” Astor hissed. They were a ways out from the nearest haven. Further still from any settlements. 

Grimacing, Celeste weakly fumbled with a pouch hanging off her belt. 

Astor glanced at it, mind in too much of a blur to consider what she could be grasping for. Risking taking one of his hands off the wound, he opened the pouch. There wasn’t much in there: a small first aid kit that wasn’t going to do any good and--

A faint orange glow.

Astor barked a brittle laugh as he withdrew the phoenix down. Feeling the warmth seep into his fingers. “When did-? How?” He shook his head; he could worry about that later. Once the magic had done its job and they were back at the haven, he’d cross that bridge. Right now, they had one other problem: a phoenix down only worked on the very recently deceased. While it’d be a nonissue in a few minutes, drowning in your own blood was hardly a way to go. 

Astor rested the feather against one of the few parts of her coat not soaked in blood and reached for a dagger. “Sorry,” he murmured as he clutched at the blade to try and mask the way his hands shook. “I’ll try to--” Shaking his head, he drove the dagger into her heart.

A strangled gasp. Celeste felt a large hand help roll her onto her side as she choked and coughed up a spray of blood from her throat. The magic flooding her veins felt like molten iron pulsed through them. They stayed like that for a long moment until Celeste was able to reorient herself. “Thanks,” she managed weakly, blinking as strong arms enveloped her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“I thought I lost you,” Astor’s voice shook as he held the other glaive. Like he was afraid she’d fade away if he let go. 

Celeste sighed, lightly patting him on the arm. “I’m alright… thanks to you.” She let out a small, surprised yelp as he scooped her up and stood. “Astor put me down!” She wriggled slightly, the effort in vain against her friend’s raw strength. “I’m fine, I can walk on my own.”

“Tough,” Astor marched towards the haven, holding Celeste bridal-style the entire trek. “Just let me have this.”

She grumbled something under her breath, ignoring the way her face and ears burned. If Astor saw it, he didn’t comment on it. Though his lips twitched in a faint smile. The pale blue glow of the haven’s runes was an inviting sight after everything that had happened. The daemons couldn’t touch the stone, which protected anyone that made camp there. 

The two glaives set up their own camp in silence. It wasn’t until they had a pot of water on the fire to boil that Celeste spoke up. “What the hell happened back there?”

“Us barely making it through a hunt thanks to dumb luck?”

She scowled at him, “That’s not what I meant.” Celeste looked from her bloodsoaked jacket to her open palm. “I swear I saw the damn thing catch fire after it stabbed me. That I had set it on fire. Maybe I was imagining it.” She swore she could feel the faint, heady rush of magic beneath her skin once more. But that could’ve just been an aftereffect of using the phoenix down. 

Astor frowned, falling into his own contemplative silence for a moment. It hadn’t even happened an hour ago, but the events all felt like a blur. His rage at seeing Celeste be cut down, knowing that he couldn’t get there fast enough, but then he was there, wailing on the daemon with his ax until there was nothing left. “Did . . . did I warp strike it?”

Celeste blinked, looking up at him. The king was dead, there was no way Astor could have warped. Just like there was no way for her to cast fire. Wordlessly, she climbed to her feet and pulled out her dagger.

“What are you--?”

Focusing her memories of warping, of the feeling of magic coursing through her body and dagger, Celeste threw it. She reappeared in a burst of embers and crystal shards, tumbling through the dry grass with a shocked laugh. The world spun, her stomach lurching in protest. Sweet Six, she forgot how disorienting warping was. 

“Holy shit . . .” Astor breathed, getting to his feet. “But how?” 

“I don’t know.” Celeste swayed as she stood, thankful she really hadn’t eaten much that day. 

“Could the other Glaives have their magic back too?”

“Maybe?” She rubbed her eyes, shuffling back up onto the haven. “None of this makes sense,” Celeste sat down, flopping onto her back and staring up at the stars. “The king’s dead, he took his magic with him.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes with a frustrated groan. “Fuck it, I’m going to bed. I’ll deal with this tomorrow . . .” The Glaive disappeared into the tent before Astor could argue. The weight of exhaustion hit her like a garula, quickly pulling Celeste onto the sleeping bags and into sleep.

Celeste felt like she was floating. Bathed in a resplendent aurora of colors, the expanse seemed to extend forever. A massive figure towered over the glaive. Wearing armor that resembled a dark azure dragon, greatswords floated at his back in the form of wings. _Bahamut._ Celeste recognized the Draconian, the Kingsglaive’s emblem had been made to resemble the Lucian god.

“Glaive of the Lucii,” his voice thundered inside of her head, overwhelming her entire being. “Darkness will soon consume this star, humanity will be pushed to the edge. It is your duty to defend them. Your penance.”

“Penance?” Celeste’s lips curled in a snarl. The rage washing over her caused the glaive to briefly forget just what stood before her. “For what? I served faithfully despite him stabbing me in the back.”

“The sins of the betrayers must be borne by all.” Chains of pure light coiled around Celeste as he spoke. “Take up the sword, defend the people, or there will be none left when the dawn returns. Then you can rest.” The Draconian vanished in an explosion of crystals and light.


	3. Chapter 3

Celeste quietly groaned as she forced her eyes open. The calls of birds and bugs alike rang out around the haven. The noon sun was trying its best to burn a hole through the tent and directly into Celeste’s eyes. Her entire body protested against the effort of standing. Her time running from the smoldering ruins of Galahd and serving in the Kingsglaive taught her to sleep just about anywhere. Though that didn’t make the stone slabs of havens any more comfortable to sleep on.

Stumbling out of the tent, she blinked against the sun and rubbed her eyes. Astor sat on the haven’s edge, running an oiled rag over the blade of his ax. She remembered the day he’d gotten it. Their unit had been ambushed by a dropship of the empire’s magitek troops. The creation of the damned things played a major role in Lucis losing ground in the war. Astor had managed to get his sword lodged inside one of the MTs. Without time to wrench it free, he snatched up an ax that had fallen and cleaved a charging MT in two. Once the fighting died down, he declared to the other glaives that he’d taken a liking to the new weapon and was keeping it.

Her spear lay behind him, the blade already cleaned. Scorch marks marred the shaft, the only proof of the magic she had conjured last night.

Astor glanced over his shoulder at her, “Morning sleepyhead.” He chuckled at the glare he got in response. “Should still be some coffee in the pot if you want it.”

“Thanks.” She poured a cup before settling down beside Astor, letting the sun warm her back. “I could’ve went and got my lance back.”

He shrugged. “You were sound asleep. I know how dangerous it is to wake you.” Astor gave his weapon one final check before setting it aside and stretching. “Besides, my ax was out there. I was already headed that way.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

The two settled into a comfortable silence, watching the chocobos they’d rented for the hunt milling about nearby. It was Astor that broke the silence. “About last night . . . “

Celeste watched him out of the corner of her eye but didn’t respond. 

“Did you have a weird dream when you fell asleep? Like you were floating in this void and--”

“And Bahamut himself was ordering you to fight for him?” She scoffed, “Yeah, I had it too.”

Astor frowned, his brows pinched together in thought. “You think it’s got anything to do with our magic coming back? Can’t be a coincidence we both had the same exact dream last night.”

“Don’t know.” Celeste fought back a shiver, she could still feel the chains that had wrapped around her as the Astral’s voice thundered in her head. Pushing herself back to her feet, she finished the last of her coffee. “We should get moving soon. Even the crappy beds in a caravan are starting to sound good.” 

“You sure you’re up to it?”

“I’m fine, phoenix down left me good as new.” There was a slight sag in Celeste’s shoulders as she strode towards the tent to start taking it down. 

Astor sighed and got up, following after her.

Meldacio served as the main headquarters for the Hunters, though the outpost as a whole had clearly seen better days. All of the buildings were in differing levels of disrepair. Celeste coaxed her chocobo to a stop, scanning the outpost with a frown. Nearly everyone had gathered around the radio by the little restaurant. “The hell?” She slid off of her chocobo’s back and moved closer. 

“In the wake of the Tidemother's wrath, the government of Accordo has declared a state of national emergency.” The newscaster’s voice crackled from poor reception. 

“On behalf of the nation,” a woman’s voice replaced the reporter’s. “I would like to express our relief that King Noctis has survived. The towering waves that swept over Altissia left great destruction in their wake.”

“Sweet Six . . .” A hunter beside Celeste muttered, “I don’t care about Altissia, but the Oracle?” 

“What about her?” Astor stepped closer. His chocobo let out a kweh at the crowd, trying to prompt the gathered Hunters for a treat.

“They’re saying Leviathan went on a rampage and killed her. Leveled Altissia too.”

The glaives exchanged a look. The oracle was dead? She didn’t have a successor of any kind. “Fuck,” Astor muttered under his breath.

“Can a man be an Oracle?” Celeste quietly mused, though Lunafreya’s brother was a high ranking officer in the Imperial army. Would he even give that up to take on the Oracle’s duties if he could?

Astor shrugged, lightly scratching the top of his chocobo’s head. A quiet dread had settled over the outpost as the Hunters dispersed from around the radio. The Oracle had always been a symbol of hope for many people. Especially those from regions Lucis had withdrawn from and abandoned. 

She sighed, “Let’s just . . . turn in this hunt.”

The tipster the pair had gotten the hunt from only gave them a solemn glance before handing over the gil. 

“You two look like you’ve had it rough,” a familiar gruff voice said behind them. The Glaives turned to see Dave standing in the doorway. Second-in-command of the Hunters, he was more than familiar with the dangers that came with the line of work.

“You could say that,” Astor muttered, unable to stop himself from glancing at Celeste.

She shook her head. “Not every night clearing out goblins turns into a fight with a yojimbo.”

Dave grimaced. “Glad to see you made it out alive then.” He studied them for a moment, not missing Astor’s concerned glance at Celeste. “You’re not taking another hunt for a few days. Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“We’re already stretched thin as it is,” Celeste said, frowning, “Can you really afford taking us off the field?”

“You’ve already had one brush with death. No sense rushing in for another so soon.”

Astor spoke up before she could argue, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We appreciate it.” 

Dave gave him a short nod, pausing to listen to the voice that crackled over the radio he wore before striding away.

Celeste pulled away from the other glaive’s hand once he was out of sight. “I’m fine.”

“Learn to take a break every now and again.”

“Fine, fine.” Despite waving him off, Celeste started towards one of the worn down caravans. “Could use a shower anyway.”

Astor sighed and followed her inside.

That night’s sleep had been restless. Both glaives feared the reappearance of the Draconian in their dreams and what the loss of the last Oracle meant for Eos. Morning came like an aggravating acquaintance, making further attempts at rest more difficult than it already was. Celeste grudgingly dragged herself from the creaky caravan bed and stumbled to the couch. Astor joined her not long after, settling onto the floor in front of her.

It had become routine for them, Celeste redoing the braids Astor kept his hair in whenever they found ample time. The action was familiar, comfortable for them. Allowing both glaives a chance to relax and process the events of the last couple of days.

It was a traditional style from back home in Galahd. Warriors and hunters would weave protective charms into their braids, beads of metal and bone. Astor had taken to adding in a few chocobo feathers after coming to Lucis. The style was hardly within regulation for Lucian soldiers, but Drautos managed to convince the late king for an exception to be made for the Kingsglaive. They fought on the frontlines against Nifleheim’s forces and wore hoods and masks into battle as is, and the morale boost would go a long way.

A knock on the caravan’s rickety door interrupted their respite. Astor and Celeste exchanged a look before he got up and moved to the door. “Marshall?” He couldn’t hide the surprise that had crept into his voice. Astor stepped back to allow Cor inside. 

The Marshall gave Celeste a short nod. “Heard the two of you had a rough hunt the other night.” 

Celeste frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Organizing efforts between the Hunters and Crownsguard.” Cor crossed his arms. “Some interesting reports have made their way to me. Of hunters suddenly wielding magic during hunts last night.”

“So you’re coming to us over a rumor?” She ignored the look Astor shot her way.

The Marshall shook his head, “Another former member of the Kingsglaive already confirmed it with me.”

“I already told you I’m not fighting for you.”

“If I recall, your words were that I’d ‘need a miracle if I wanted your blade’.” Cor raised an eyebrow, “This not miracle enough for you, Lupo?”


	4. Chapter 4

Dragged back into the reformed ranks of the Kingsglaive, the next several weeks seemed to fly by. Leviathan’s rampage and Lunafreya’s death had only been the beginning of bad news trickling in from the Empire’s territory. Rumors of out-of-control MTs came next. It wasn’t long after that that conflicting reports on the destruction of Fenestala Manor in Tenebrae Manor and the capitol of Nifleheim, Gralea followed. Some claimed the rampaging MTs were to blame, others said it had been massive daemons.

Regardless of what was responsible for the destruction, swaths of refugees flocked to the safety of Lestallum. It didn’t take long for the city to be pushed to its limits, but with the days quickly growing shorter, no one was keen to turn people away.

Astor slung his coat over his shoulder as he and Celeste walked down the street. Despite having lived there the last few weeks, neither of them had really adjusted to the ever present cloying heat. 

“Wonder if we’ll get stuck on guard duty again.” Celeste tugged at her collar. She wasn’t sure who thought the leather uniforms the glaives wore was a good idea, but she wanted to punch them. 

He shrugged. Guard duty wasn’t like back in Insomnia. They usually had to dispatch at least one bold daemon during their shifts, whereas back in the crown city it just meant hours of standing in place while the Crownsguard harassed you for being an outsider. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and be sent out somewhere away from this damn heat.”

She nodded in agreement.

The pair stepped into the Leville. What had once been a hotel had been converted into a makeshift base of operation for hunters, Crownsguard, and Kingsglaive alike. Libertus looked up from the map he and Monica were currently studying. 

“What do you have for us today?” Celeste couldn’t bring herself to use his new rank. Why he of all people had been made captain was beyond her. Libertus was one of the glaives that betrayed Lucis and led to Insomnia’s destruction. If they weren’t so short handed as is, he likely would have just been put to the sword when he showed up.

“Doctor Yeagre requested some help gathering samples in Malmalam Thicket.” Libertus wiped at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “With the number of daemons going up, the sooner we can figure out what the hell’s going on the better.”

“That’s a good half day’s drive,” Astor mused, glancing at the map before back up at the captain. “There a truck we can take? Be a lot safer and faster than chocoboback.”

Libertus and Monica glanced at each other, “I might be able to get you one from the hunters. I’ll have to check with Dave.” Monica pushed away from the table and strode from the room. 

Celeste crossed her arms. “So we’re escorting some doctor then?” It sounded boring, if she was being honest. But it beat stewing in the Lestallum heat, so she’d take it. 

“Doctor Yeagre’s one of the best biologists in the world,” Astor chimed in. “Heard some hunters talking about her back in Meldacio. She can apparently hold her own pretty well in a fight.”

“Though she denies any and all stories about the Redcap Killer,” Libertus chuckled and shook his head. “She’s been pretty focused on trying to figure out the cause of all these daemons, especially why there’s so many of them recently.”

“There will be a truck waiting for the three of you near the gate.” Monica strode back into the room and tossed Astor a set of keys. “Plate number’s on the tag.”

“Doctor Yeagre will meet you two in an hour. Go get ready to leave.”

The pair of glaives saluted, mostly out of habit, before striding from the hotel. “Glad you were able to get us that truck,” Celeste glanced at her partner. 

“What, didn’t want to get thrown off your chocobo in front of Yeagre?”

She rolled her eyes and punched his arm, getting a laugh in response. 

Gear packed, the pair of glaives loaded the truck as they waited. “Hope I didn’t keep the two of you waiting very long,” a woman’s voice called out to them. Doctor Yeagre hurried over to the glaives, a large pack on her back and several terrarium-like cages in her hands.

Astor shook his head, “you’re actually early.” He helped load her things in the bed of the truck. “I’m Astor, by the way. The ball of sunshine over there’s Celeste.” 

She shot him a dark look. “Jerk.”

The doctor laughed, “just call me Sania. No need to worry about stuffy titles while we’re out in the mud.” 

“So...” Celeste looked over all of the equipment they’d loaded up, “what kind of samples are you collecting anyway?”

Sania smiled at them. “Frogs!”

The drive to Malmalam Thicket was long, but uneventful. What was normally comfortable silence between the two glaives was filled with Sania explaining the importance of frogs in a changing ecosystem. She hoped they would serve as a key to figuring out what was happening to the world. 

“Didn’t the Nifs study daemons?” Celeste leaned forward in the backseat of the truck. “Think any of their research survived?”

“It’s possible, but getting in and out of the capitol in one piece is a tall order.”

Astor pulled the truck off to the side of the road, “Maybe that mercenary crew can help us when they aren’t shuttling refugees out of that hellscape.”

“Maybe.” Celeste shoved his shoulder. “Hurry and move the seat so I can get out. I can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckled, climbing out of the truck. “You had the entire bench to yourself back there.”

“‘Bench’ is generous,” Celeste grumbled, stumbling a few steps when her boots hit the pavement. She stretched with a groan. “I think there’s a haven somewhere nearby, right?”

“Just up the road a bit,” Sania called as she gathered her equipment from the truck bed. “There’s another in the heart of the thicket.”

A branch snapped, prompting the trio to spin around towards the sound. Celeste frowned at the lone garula trudging along the side of the road.

“They’re not supposed to be this far out.” Sania moved up beside the glaives. Even from that distance it was easy to see the garula was severely underweight, its fur matted in several places. The garula stopped and stared at them. Letting out a ragged bellow, it charged them. “Look out!”

Astor jumped in its path, his hands snapping up in front of him. Magic flowed from his palms and formed a wall between him and the charging garula. It collided against his shield with a sickening crack, shattering his barrier and sending the glaive stumbling back. 

Celeste’s spear soared past him as both combatants staggered. She warped after the weapon, driving the blade deep between the garula’s ribs. Blood and thick black ichor flowed from the wound. 

A swing of her partner’s ax put the creature out of its misery. 

Sania gave a low whistle as she approached. “I’ve heard stories about you glaives in action, but to see it in person is something else.” She studied the slain garula and frowned. The same damp smell that followed the demise of daemons mingled with the stench of decay in the air. Dark purple and black blotches marred its skin and patches of hair were missing. “Lemme get some samples from this and then we can head into the thicket.”

The glaives spent the next day and a half in Malmalam Thicket, knee deep in mud and cold streams, helping Sania catch frogs. Many of them showed the same black blotches as the garula that attacked them. A few frogs showed other signs of mutation: spines, claws, and thickened hide. Sania was careful to photograph and take notes on every frog caught, slowing the process down that much more. Finally, the doctor declared they had gathered enough samples and could return back to Lestallum.

“Thanks for your help, you two!” Sania called out, putting the last of her packs back into the truck. “We were able to get a bunch of good data.”

Astor’s joints let out audible pops as he stretched before fishing the truck’s keys out of his pocket. “Wonder what our chances are of getting some skewers after we turn in our report.”

“My guess is slim-to-none.” Celeste paused to try and brush more dried mud from her coat. She was pretty sure her gear weighed an extra ten pounds from all the mud stuck to it. “Long as we don’t end up with just beans again.”

He chuckled, easily catching up to her in a few strides. “I’ll be sure to get you a big. Burly Bean Bowl the- oof!” The backhand to his stomach made him double over for a moment. 

She snatched the keys from his hand and opened the truck door, “I’m driving, get your ass in the backseat.”

“There’s hardly enough room for me back there.”

Celeste smirked, “But you have the whole bench to yourself!”

“Oh, ha ha.” Astor climbed up into the truck bed, “I’ll just take my chances back here, thanks.” 

She shrugged, “Suit yourself.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sunlight had all but ceased to exist. Sania and a few others insisted that it was still there, just hidden behind a growing shroud of Scourge. The explanation did little to clear the gloom that had settled into the outposts along with the darkness. 

Lestallum was packed beyond its limit. Survivors huddling together in the safety of the light. Glaives and Hunters alike ventured outside of the safety of the city’s walls to forage for supplies, gather meteor shards, and escort EXINERIS workers to provide power to other outposts.

Celeste collapsed into a camping chair with a heavy sigh. Turncouth Haven served as a sort of midpoint between Lestallum and Cauthess Depot. Glaives often stopped here to rest, leaving a more permanent camp set up in their wake. It was easier than constantly lugging equipment with them, and the near constant presence of hunters, glaives, or crownsguard dissuaded most raiders from trying to take the gear.

“Well, that job was all kinds of fun,” grumbled the glaive attempting to clean his boots near the fire.

“Don’t like gigantoads, Solis?” Astor chuckled as he prepared a stack of toad steaks to cook. 

Solis shot him a dark look, “It’s going to take ages to get rid of all this slime.”

Celeste snorted. “Least your boots are nice and shiny. The Marshall should like that.” Solis had been born into a wealthy Insomnian family. He’d joined the Crownsguard expecting a cushy assignment, but his unusually high affinity with magic found him placed among the Kingsglaive instead. She always enjoyed seeing the highborn knocked down a few pegs.

It was supposed to be a simple escort job. Make sure the truck gets to the depot safely. And it had started peacefully enough. A few ice bombs had drifted too close to the road, but a fire spell from Celeste dissuaded them from approaching the truck.

They had almost reached the depot when the truck’s tire went flat. Their troubles only snowballed from there. Wandering daemons hadn’t been an issue for the trio of glaives, but they hadn’t expected the gigantoad that snatched Solis with its tongue.

Astor rolled his broad shoulders in a shrug, “Eh, at least you got your revenge. And we get a decent meal out of it.” The steaks sizzled loudly as he laid them over the fire. Their chocobos kweh’d as they dug into their own share of the spoils.

Their radios crackled to life. “This is Elea of the Glaive. If anyone can hear this, we’ve been ambushed by daemons and need back up. I repeat, we’ve been ambushed by daemons and need back up.” A loud crash and a roar made it hard to hear their location.

“That’s not far from us . . .” Celeste frowned at the radio.

Astor pushed himself to his feet, abandoning their dinner to the chocobos as he put out the campfire. “We’re probably the closest there is, too.” 

“En route from Turncouth Haven,” Solis spoke into the radio after pulling his slime-coated boots back on. “Hang in there.” The trio grabbed their weapons and climbed onto their chocobos before tearing off from the haven. They rode in tense silence, weaving their way past wandering packs of daemons. 

Celeste gritted her teeth as she urged her chocobo to go faster. She tried to keep her mind from wandering, imagining the scene that might be waiting for them on arrival.

A burst of lightning magic illuminated the area ahead of them, followed by a human scream. They barely had time to take in the scene. An uttu and its swarm of kokyangwuti scuttled towards a convulsing glaive on the ground. A nearby ziggurat, blue-grey skin shimmering with blood, hoisted the limp upper half of another glaive up to eye level. 

Celeste didn’t think. She didn’t have time. Snatching her spear from her back, she stood on her chocobo’s back and threw it. Warping after it in a burst of embers and crystal shards, she reappeared over the uttu’s back and dove. 

The daemon shrieked as her spear pierced its flesh. It bucked, twisting to dislodge the angry glaive from its back. 

Solis let out a huff as he warped after his dagger, a fire spell leaving his fingers the moment he hit the ground. The flames consumed a few of the uttu’s underlings and sent the rest fleeing for cover. “Maybe think before you act, Lupo!” he called after Celeste. 

Celeste coughed as she rolled back to her feet. The hard landing had knocked the wind out of her. Normally, she would’ve thrown some kind of snippy comeback at Solis, but the enraged daemon charging her dominated her attention. Fire swirled in her palm as she willed it to gather before unleashing it on the arachnid monster.

Astor’s familiar roar could be heard as his ax cleaved through the Ziggurat’s shoulder, forcing the daemon to drop the dismembered glaive. 

With a snarl, the daemon spun towards him with claws outstretched. The bloodsoaked claws struck against the crystalline wall Astor conjured between them.

Between Celeste and Solis’s flames, the Uttu’s minions had been reduced to ash. The larger daemon had been left heavily charred. Solis drew his sword and charged. A fireball to the face sent the Uttu staggering back. The sword wielding glaive severed two of its hind legs, causing it to collapse just long enough for Celeste’s spear to pierce the daemon’s human torso. 

Both glaives stood panting as the daemon dissolved into miasma and disappeared, leaving only the damp smell of the scourge in its wake. Celeste straightened with a wince. “See if Elea’s okay.” She didn’t give Solis a chance to respond before running to aid Astor.

Solis scoffed, sheathing his sword. “Who put you in command?” He started towards the downed glaive.

Sharp spears of ice had punctured the ziggurat’s wings, limiting its mobility. “Astor, above!” Celeste called before throwing her spear. 

The daemon’s eyes were drawn towards the sound. Astor glanced up. An outcropping of rocks was behind the daemon. He heaved his ax and warped after it.

Celeste’s thrown spear had been caught by the ziggurat. The daemon barely had a chance to snarl at the point where she once stood before she warped after the weapon. She slammed into her lance, sending the daemon staggering back as the blade pierced into its chest. Celeste kicked away just as Astor lept from the outcrop, bringing his ax down into the ziggurat’s skull. 

Both he and the daemon slammed into the ground. Astor tumbled away, lying still for a moment before pushing himself up with a groan. He and Celeste wordlessly retrieved their weapons from the dispersing miasma before walking to the slain glaive. 

“Fucking hell…” Celeste murmured as she knelt beside him. She recognized the glaive as Lucas, a fairly quiet man that usually kept to himself. People always seemed to comment on his eyes, an icy blue that drew you in. Eyes that now stared unseeingly into the black sky, wide with horror. Celeste felt Astor’s hand on her shoulder as she heaved a sigh, “If we could’ve been just a little faster.”

“Dammit!” Solis’s shout had her back on her feet, both glaives running to where he knelt over Elea. His chest heaved as he struck the charred earth and shook his head. “Nothing I could do,” he muttered. 

Astor swore under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. “We should see if their birds made it.” He said after a long moment. “Would make it easier to bring them back to Lestallum.” 

“Assuming they aren’t already halfway back to the post by now,” Celeste muttered, tearing her gaze away from Elea.

Solis slowly pushed himself back to his feet, reaching into his pocket for the whistle they used to call their chocobos. A branch snapped. His head snapped up to see three more ziggurats diving at them. “Shit!” Solis threw his hands forward, forming a shield of magic a split second before claws met his flesh. 

Celeste let out a low growl, releasing a gout of flames from her palm to drive the daemons back enough that Solis could lower his shield. 

He wasted little time letting a lightning spell fly once he had the chance. “Damn these things!”

Both Celeste and Astor crashed into the staggered ziggurat with a warp strike, cutting the daemon down. An ear-piercing shriek split the air, laced heavily with magic that struck mind and body alike. The glaives couldn’t move. They could hardly think. 

A wet, garbled cry reached their ears once the daemon’s scream faded. Celeste whipped around to see the scythe-like blade of the other Ziggurat embedded in Solis’s throat. He clawed at the arm, eyes wild and fading. 

Astor’s ax severed the daemon’s arm. It staggered back with a shriek, narrowly avoiding his next swing. Solis collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. None of them had any curatives on hand, and chances were high the other slain glaives didn’t, either. 

Sharp claws raked across Celeste’s back, easily cutting through the leather coat of her uniform. A pained growl rumbled in her throat as she spun to face the daemon. She barely had the chance to register the faint glow of the ground beneath her feet. An explosion of energy sent the glaive reeling. 

Celeste scrambled back to her feet and held up her spear in defense just as the daemon lunged for her. The impact caused her to slide back a few feet. Gritting her teeth, Celeste twisted her weapon, knocking the daemon off balance and into Astor’s ax. 

The daemons had barely finished dissolving into puddles of black ichor when another ziggurat charged them. Followed by another. Then another. Ice seized Celeste’s veins. She and Astor barely had a chance to lock eyes in a single, terrified glance as the swarm of daemons charged them. 

It was their last stand. They both knew it. But if they were going to die, both glaives resolved to take as many of the daemons with them as they could. Spell and blade clashed with fang and claw. 

A ragged scream drew Celeste’s gaze for an instant. Astor struggled to hold up a magic barrier, his hand pressed against his abdomen in a desperate but futile attempt to prevent loops of intestine from spilling onto the ground. One of the daemons punched through the crystal shield as he collapsed. 

“No!” Celeste warped, standing over the fallen glaive. She screamed at the daemons. A primal, animalistic sound tearing itself from her throat. The shaft of her spear cracked bone and the blade pierced flesh. A daemon slammed into her, wrenching her weapon from her grasp and sending her crashing to the ground. 

Celeste rolled back onto her feet. Control slipped from her fingers as magic seared her veins and scorched her flesh. The unleashed spell was one far beyond her ability to cast, draining every bit of mana with it.

She chuckled bitterly as she fell to her knees, stasis taking hold. Despite immolating multiple daemons, the rest didn’t seem deterred. Celeste couldn’t move her arms, the charred flesh no longer responding to her commands. “I’m… I don’t want...” There was nothing she could do as the horde descended, rending flesh from bone without any trace of mercy.


	6. Chapter 6

Darkness surrounded Celeste, an inky shroud that consumed everything. Cool water lapped at her ears as she floated. Despite not being able to see, she felt calm. At peace. She wasn’t sure how long she floated there in silence before a woman’s voice whispered in her mind. “You with the courage to defy fate, seek me out at the foot of the Pyreburner’s tomb, where only the blood of kings could once enter.” The voice was soft, washing over her like the cool water. “The King’s Hand with flame-kissed eyes will show you the way.”

“What?” Celeste looked around, straining her eyes in a vain effort to see something - anything - around her. “Who are you?”

“I haven’t the strength to explain here.” The voice grew more faint, “find me, and you will have the answers that you seek.”

“Wait, dammit!” She felt herself falling, the water giving way to an endless void. 

Celeste woke up with a start, coughing and spitting the blood that had pooled in her mouth and throat. She struggled to roll over, bleary eyes taking in her surroundings. 

Astor was pushing himself to his knees beside her. His dark eyes were wild, rapidly searching for any signs of danger. Their eyes met. Celeste lunged for him, catching Astor in a tight hug, not caring that the both of them were soaked in blood. 

“I thought . . .” He whispered, holding her tighter. “H-how are we . . .? Oh, Astrals . . .” 

“I don’t know . . . I don’t know.”

They stayed like that in silence for a long moment before a weak cough had both glaives back on their feet. Solis had rolled over onto his hands and knees, retching as spat out blood. The three of them hadn’t been the only ones brought back as Elea and Lucas struggled to stand. 

All of them looked equally shocked and confused. 

Celeste stumbled a step, struggling to keep her feet under her. “Let’s . . . let’s go back to the haven. Agreements were murmured before chocobo whistles sounded through the night. None of the glaives dared voice the fear of their birds not surviving the onslaught. 

After a long, tense moment, light flickered behind the foliage followed by a hesitant kweh. “It’s alright,” Celeste held her hand out to the uneasy bird. “The fighting’s over.”The chocobos remained in place for a moment, quietly debating amongst themselves with chittering warks. Finally, one by one, they approached their riders. 

A heavy silence lingered over the glaives as they rode to the haven. Everyone was too lost in their own thoughts to say much. The silence continued after reaching the safety of the haven, the fire relit, and bloodsoaked and tattered clothes discarded in a pile to be dealt with later. 

It was Lucas, the first glaive to fall, that finally spoke up. “So . . . anyone have any idea what the fuck happened to all of us?”

“Aside from us dying?” Celeste muttered, suppressing a shudder as she unconsciously moved closer to Astor. 

Solis shook his head. “I doubt there just happened to be someone with five phoenix downs walking by.”

“We should’ve been too far gone for a phoenix down to help,” Elea said, nodding towards Lucas, “and they can’t heal dismemberment like that.”

“Yet here we all are…” Astor didn’t take his eyes off the small campfire, a heavy frown on his features.

Another silence fell over the glaives. Beyond the dried blood and ruined uniforms, there wasn’t any evidence of the previous battle. 

“There’s a story among the Crownsguard,” Solis spoke, not looking up, “about some monster called Adagium. Some . . . ancient daemon that can’t be killed. Every time it dies, it just comes back to life like nothing ever happened. Just like--”

“Shut up, Solis.” Celeste hissed, rubbing her eyes. “Did anyone hear a woman talking to them right before they woke up?”

Elea and Lucas shook their heads.

Astor nodded, “I did.”

“I heard . . . something?” Solis shook his head, “it was too garbled to make out. I thought it was just you guys yelling.”

Lucas hesitated. “What . . . did she say?”

“That if we wanted answers, to go find her at the foot of the Pyreburner’s tomb. No idea where that is though.”

“I’ve heard Ravatogh called that before,” Elea spoke up, “Guess it got that name because some of the rocks look like Ifrit’s horns. Or . . . something.”

Astor shifted. “Well, whatever’s out there, apparently the Hand of the King knows about it and could show us.”

Solis arched an eyebrow. “Scientia? He might know something, but doubt he’ll be much help in getting you there.” He tapped his face near his left eye. “No idea what happened to him, looks like he took a fireball to the face. But the guy’s completely blind now.”

“Well, right now he’s our only lead,” Celeste said with an irritated huff. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to go find answers.”

“All five of us leaving is going to draw attention,” Elea spoke up. “Maybe . . . just you and Astor go? You’re the only ones that even heard the voice in the first place.”

Celeste and Astor exchanged a glance. “Alright,” Celeste nodded.

Solis stood and brushed himself off. “In the meanwhile, why don’t we keep this between us? Last thing we need is people calling us daemons if that isn’t what’s going on.”

Everyone murmured in agreement. They couldn’t have this getting out until they had a better idea of what was going on. Until then, the best they could do was continue with their duties. 


	7. Chapter 7

Astor rolled his shoulders as they stepped from the truck bed onto the pavement, giving a slight wave to the hunter they’d caught a ride with. “Think he’s still out here?”

“He better be,” Celeste muttered with her usual scowl. The female glaive was already striding down the broken pavement towards the Quay. “Still can’t believe he’s actually crazy enough to go out here alone.”

Astor just shrugged, amber eyes scanning the barren ground for any sign of danger. A few goblins scampered just out of the reach of their lights but otherwise seemed uninterested in the pair. The glow of thunder bombs danced over the nearby cliff. 

Asking around Lestallum, they learned Ignis had headed out for Galdin Quay alone, though the advisor had apparently neglected to give a reason why. 

_ “It’s Ignis,” Prompto had said with a shrug, “If he decides to do something there really isn’t any stopping him.”  _

An unearthly creaking split the silence, prompting both glaives to draw their weapons. They both recognized the unmistakable groan of grinding metal. An iron giant dragging itself from a pool of roiling miasma somewhere out of sight. “Towards the pier!” Celeste called, breaking into a sprint with Astor following close on her heels. 

Crownsguard or not, member of the king’s personal retinue or not, Ignis was still just one man on the daemon infested shore. A single, blind man. 

A pair of snaga leapt onto the road in front of them. With a roar, Astor cleaved through them without slowing his stride. An explosion of sparks pierced through the darkness, lightning magic scattering across the abandoned parking lot. The iron giant toppled to the pavement with an earth-shaking crash. A lone hobgoblin attempted to sprint from the scene in a panic, but was soon pinned to the ground by a thrown lance smoldering with fire magic. 

Ignis knelt in the center of the carnage, breathing heavily. Blood oozed from cuts along his arms and face, his darkened glasses having been knocked askew during the battle. 

“Damn,” Astor mused, taking in the scene. 

In an instant, the daggers were back in Ignis’s hands with a flash of crystalline light. He held them at the ready but made no move to attack. Instead, Ignis remained motionless. Tense, like a coeurl about to pounce, though far more dangerous. 

Celeste was the first to break the silence. “Ignis Scientia, correct?” She approached slowly, keeping a close eye on the twin daggers and the licks of magic flame that danced along the blades. She’d heard rumors in the Kingsglaive that the future advisor was talented with magic, enough he could’ve made for an excellent glaive had he not already been pledged to the prince. 

“Perhaps,” the advisor said tersely, “and you are? If you’re raiders, I’m afraid the two of you will be sorely disappointed.” 

“I’m Celeste Lupo and that’s Astor Corvus, we’re with the Kingsglaive.”

There was a tense beat before Ignis dismissed his daggers and stood. “We’ve crossed paths a few times in Lestallum.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, “why are you here?”

Celeste gestured towards the nearby haven before realizing it was a wasted motion, “why don’t we talk at the haven? Before any more daemons decide to pay us a visit.”

“Very well.” 

The group made their way over to Lacyrth Haven. With a clear view of the ocean and even Angelguard Island, Celeste supposed it would’ve been a beautiful place to camp before the Long Night moved in. 

Taking a breath, Celeste willed magic to spark from her fingertips and onto the pile of deadwood Astor had scrounged up. The pair of glaives took turns explaining the events that had followed the return of their magic while she bandaged the worst of Ignis’s wounds.

“That’s quite the story you have there,” the advisor mused. 

Astor sat by the fire with a sigh. “And a hard to believe one I’m sure.”

A smile played at the corners of Ignis’s mouth. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. When you’ve come face to face with the Astrals themselves time and time again, the outlandish starts to become a little more believable.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on interlaced fingers. “As for the location you were told about . . . the Tomb is likely the Rock of Ravatogh.”

“Yeah, we were at least able to figure out that much.” She shrugged, “But we haven’t heard of any ruins that only kings could enter.”

Ignis thought for a long moment. With how intently he seemed to be staring into the fire, it was easy to forget for a moment that he was blind. “There is... one place that comes to mind. Solheim ruins, like the ones found at Steyliff Grove near the Vesperpool. Rumors had led to us exploring the foot of the volcano where we found them.” 

He frowned, “I’m not sure I could even describe just what it was, but something prevented us from following Noct inside.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow, “Sounds like our place then.”

“Perhaps.”

“Anything else you can tell us about it?” Astor asked as he placed another piece of wood onto the fire.

Ignis shook his head, “not much I’m afraid. It was almost two days before Noct finally emerged. He never talked much about it beyond saying it didn’t feel like he’d been in there nearly that long and that the interior shouldn’t have been able to exist.” He idly reached up and adjusted his glasses, “whatever it was, his magic seemed stronger following that venture.”

“Well, weird glowing ruins should be easy enough to spot. Guess that’s one good thing to this damn Long Night.” Celeste stretched. “We have an outpost up near where Verinas Mart used to be. Maybe someone up there’s seen something.”

“From what I recall, it was a bit of a ways off from the outpost. And further off-road, besides.”

“Chocobos able to get back there?”

“Possibly, but it’s hard to know what’s changed in the year and a half since we were there.” Ignis frowned. “Has it really been that long?”

Celeste pushed herself to her feet, “Ravatogh’s clear on the other side of Lucis. We should probably get a move on.”

“I’ll join you,” Ignis stood as well.

She hesitated, “I don’t think--”

“--that’s a good idea?” The advisor smirked, “I won’t slow you down, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But I have questions of my own that need answers. Perhaps I’ll find them there.”

Celeste glanced at Astor, who only shrugged in response. She sighed, “Guess we can’t really stop you regardless.”

“You’d be correct on that account. Shall we get going?”


	8. Chapter 8

The journey from Galdin Quay to Ravatogh was a long one, further hampered by the need to weave around packs of daemons or fight when doing so wasn’t possible. Whenever they stopped to rest at a haven, Ignis volunteered to cook a meal for the three of them. His magical talents on display once more in the subtle enchantments woven into each dish. Though more than once everyone fell asleep shortly after reaching the safety of a haven. 

Ravatogh loomed in the distance, the volcano’s glow dulled by the scourge blanketing the sky. It only grew more imposing the closer they got. A nagging thought clawed at the back of Celeste’s mind as they traveled. _They should turn back,_ it said, t _his was just a wasted effort._ Celeste gritted her teeth and nudged her chocobo faster.

Their stop at the Verinas Mart outpost proved fruitless. None of the hunters and glaives stationed there knew of any ancient ruins near the volcano’s base. Though they also admitted to not venturing far from camp unless absolutely necessary. Undeterred, Ignis recalled the direction the ruins were from the outpost and the three set out once again.

Celeste had been the first to spot it. The glow of the ruins was like a dull beacon in the darkness. “Really?” Ignis pulled his chocobo to a stop, the corners of his mouth turned in a slight frown. “There had been a rather steep climb when I was here last.” 

“I mean, there kinda is?” Celeste nudged her bird forward as she studied the remains of a rocky outcropping. A large portion of the stone had been melted, clearing a path.

Astor shined his flashlight across it. “Maybe some bombs did this?”

“Would’ve had to have been a big cluster of them. Or a bigger bomb than we’ve ever seen.” She frowned at the opening. “It’s almost like--”

“Like a path was made specifically for us?” Ignis suggested. 

“Yeah…”

Reaching the ruins proper, their chocobos balked. All three birds refused to take another step closer and let out loud kwehs in protest. Trying in vain to coax her chocobo into moving, Celeste finally climbed off with a frustrated huff. Her boots had barely touched the ground when the bird sprinted off towards the nearby haven. Astor and Ignis’s birds followed suit the moment their riders dismounted. 

“I suppose we’re continuing on foot then.” Ignis swiped his cane in front of him, undaunted by the unknown terrain ahead.

Descending into the depths of Pitioss Ruins, Celeste fought the urge to charge ahead. While she wanted - _needed_ \- answers, their flashlights were barely cutting into the darkness ahead of them. There was no telling what kind of creatures or traps awaited them just out of sight. 

Stepping out of the hallway the stairs had ended in, Celeste drew in a sharp breath. The room that opened up before them was massive, the ceiling far higher than should have been possible. Braziers filled with ghostly violet flames lined their path, illuminating the way ahead. Though it was impossible to tell where they were being guided to. 

Celeste pulled her spear from her back, unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. She noticed Astor do the same as they continued to walk. Ignis had yet to conjure forth his own weapon, though a subtle tension had crept into his features.

“Welcome,” a voice spoke from the darkness ahead.

All three of them readied their weapons. “Who’s there?” Astor demanded.

A woman stepped into view, moving with light, graceful steps. Weathered armor adorned her arms and shoulders, adorned with glowing runes like the ones responsible for a haven’s magic. Faint, ephemeral hands grasped at the hem of her dress. If the glaives really looked, faces could be made out. A train of lost souls wove themselves into the fabric. 

Despite being Celeste’s height, her presence seemed to loom over them. Dwarfing even the volcano whose shadow they were under. “Lower your weapons, you are safe here.”

The glaives recognized the voice as the one that had summoned them here and slowly obeyed. “Who . . . are you?” Celeste warily asked.

The woman smiled softly at them, and Celeste could feel her gaze despite the blindfold shrouding her eyes. Twisting black horns adorned her head like a crown. “I am Etro.” 

Realization crept across Ignis’s features as he dismissed his dagger back into the armiger. “The goddess of death?”

Celeste’s lip twitched at the thought of another deity toying with them. Astor rested his hand on her shoulder, glancing between her and the goddess. “Why would a goddess summon us?” he asked before Celeste could say something to anger Etro.

The goddess turned towards him. “I am in need of your aid. This star is dying, and the lifestream’s flow grows weak, preventing the souls of the departed from finding its currents.”

Celeste frowned, tightening her grip on her spear. “So you need us to clean up your mess?”

“Celeste,” Astor warned.

“Hardly,” Etro smiled at her. “But I am offering you a chance to defy the fate Bahamut ordained for you.” 

Celeste hesitated, exchanging a glance with Astor. 

When the glaive didn’t say anything, the goddess continued. “The Draconian, as you’ve come to call him, was brought into this world by Eos and myself to become the light that purges the scourge from this star. But fulfilling his duty would bring about his end, and so he hid from it. Bahamut seized control of the lines that served Eos and I as we slumbered and set the prophecy of the King of Light into motion. His hubris has only grown since.”

Ignis remained silent, though his grip noticeably tightened on his cane.

“He believes himself beyond anyone’s reach. But even the Astrals are not above Death. Forge a covenant with me and become my shadows. Shepard the souls who have lost their way, and when the dawn comes, bring down retribution upon the proud dragon.”

Etro’s blindfolded gaze turned towards Ignis. “I would make you the same offer, though by donning the ring you bound your fate to the Dawn closer than even I can sever.” The goddess smiled softly. “Though I believe you would choose to remain ever at his side even if I could.”

A wry smile tugged at Ignis’s lips as he dipped his head slightly. “You would have the right of it.”

Holding out her hands, shadows coalesced into a pair of daggers which Etro then presented to the glaives. “I do not ask that you make your decision now.” Darker than even the depths of the ruins, the daggers seemed to absorb the light around them. “But should you choose to forge a covenant with me and take shelter within my shadow, pierce your heart with these blades.” A wry smile crept across her features. “You’re already undying, souls denied permission to cross the rift between worlds; what’s one more taste of death before you serve her?”

Celeste didn’t even hesitate. Taking one of the daggers, she plunged the blade into her chest, collapsing to her knees as the icy shadows flooded her veins. Leaving numbness in its wake. Astor’s hand was instantly on her shoulder. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” A strangled gasp escaped her lips. “Thought phoenix downs were bad…” Celeste looked up at Astor, frowning as he drew in a sharp breath. “What?”

“Your eyes...” Astor shook himself out of his daze. “They’re red now.”

“A mark of our covenant. They will only appear when you call upon my magic.” Kneeling in front of Celeste, Etro gently cupped her face in her hands. “Now rise, my beloved shadow, your new duty awaits.”

Celeste slowly pushed herself to her feet. Even as her body trembled at the new magic, she felt stronger. A new determination burned in her chest, the drive to see the Draconian bleed for his actions. 

And she would make him bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Was. A. Beast of a fic. My first BB and the longest fic I've written yet. Funnily enough, this is only a third of the original story I'd intended when the event began. But then 2020 happened and I realized I'd bitten off waaay more than I could chew. Maybe one day I'll write a sequel fic or two and continue this story.
> 
> Once again, Mementomoryo is responsible for that gorgeous artwork. She was an absolute dream to work with and a massive help as I struggled to put the pieces together. You can find her and more of her work at @CCronshaw on Twitter, mementomoryo.tumblr.com for Tumblr, and https://www.instagram.com/mementomoryo/ on Instagram!


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